Verso
by Flitz
Summary: Repercussions on a wish GambitRogue
1. What ice?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.**

An ice blast ripped past his vision— thick as his arm and longer— cold radiating from it. Seconds from a painful impact Gambit threw his weight backwards, hitting the ground hard, and sliding under the newly made ice structure. A slide that, unfortunately, brought him to the feet of his opponent. One to make the best of a bad situation, Gambit scissored his legs bringing the man to the ground with him. A lightly charged card found its way to the man's midsection even before Gambit regained his feet. Temporarily taking his opponent out of commission the Cajun-bred mutant back tracked to the larger squadron of soldiers, eager to rejoin the fight.

It had been mostly hand to hand, a computer sequence designed to simulate battle weary conditions for its participants. Even before entering, Gambit had to sacrifice his Bo staff, and a significant portion of his cards, leaving barely half the deck. Personally Gambit thought relieving him of his Bo staff was ridiculous, in battle he seldom lost a staff nearly the same height of his own six foot frame and made of adamantium. However, the other choice had been to actually spend hours in the Danger Room until a bone set weariness entered all the players, hours Gambit was certain could be much better spent elsewhere.

Another opponent rushed in, a realistic and unpleasant scent of sweat wafting off of him. Gambit swung his staff with the usual force, but knew the speed behind it was gone. A fist coming out of nowhere smacked him on the back of the head before he could deflect it, and Gambit huffed more in frustration than pain.

The slowing of reflexes was an aftereffect of the devices all the X-Men currently in session had on their person. A personal gravity dampening device was tucked into all their clothing. Gambit didn't know, and didn't want to know, the inner workings of the device. He did not really trust the devices they were using, little bits of Shi'ar in them everywhere. All he'd been told was that they increased the gravity in a given area, like an invisible net around each player, making each and every move seconds slower than it would normally be.

Archangel, flying up above, was one of the more hampered of the team. He had announced early on that he would not be able to ferry any of his teammates, indeed he was having enough trouble keeping himself aloft. The birdman was pulling his own weight though, diving down from his perches, the momentum of his dives adding to his attacks.

Iceman and Gambit, the only two 'powers' in the room, had additional handi-caps attached to their performances. For safety reasons normal readouts such as heart rates and room temperatures were habitually recorded, and for this exercise, should Bobby's temperature interferences drop to a certain degree the entire exercise was forfeit. In layman's terms: no flash freezing any of their enemies. Gambit had professed his ability to monitor his own energy outputs, but his argument had fallen on deaf ears. A joule meter estimating the amount of energy he was releasing had been added to keep him honest, preventing him from using energy amounts he would normally only be able to use when fresh.

Gambit, a Cajun who had seen his share of do or die situations on and off the X-team, knew that these restrictions left out some of the most basic fighting elements. The exercise was to hone instincts when the team's resources were already depleted, but it failed to recognize the bursts of energy, determination, and power that came when your back was up against the wall.

A sharp glint of metal caught his eye and Remy focused on the fourth and final member of the group within the Danger Room who seemed the most unaffected by the dampeners. Wolverine was in his element with three attackers surrounding him. He merrily hacked away at them, seemingly unaffected by the realistic screams, shouts, and blood spurts of their enemies— a collusion of hologram and mechanical men.

Despite their realistic appearances Gambit felt a little freer with meeting out violence knowing they were at least partially android. Ducking another punch, still attempting to adjust to his stunted reflexes, Gambit threw a card at one of the men Iceman had imprisoned from the waist down. The light explosion knocked the struggling figure from the game, but unfortunately freed another of Bobby's captives. But as yet another ice pylon for Iceman's bridges erupted in front of him and he nearly fell face first into the frigid pillar, Gambit decided to count the newly freed man as Bobby's problem.

Fights like these were never silent and the air was full of grunts, groans and the eerie echo as the sounds of crackling ice and kinetic fire merged. Piles of defeated enemies grew ever larger, and Gambit quickly found himself fighting back to back with the always aggressive Wolverine, the all too real sounds of claws slashing flesh keeping him company. A red flash streaked by and Gambit spared a moment to track Warren's progress. That moment of inattention from his own battle partner was negatively rewarded, as it so often was, when the android had been joined by another contingent of a wearying line of opponents.

Tiring of penny-ante games Gambit launched into a vicious roundhouse kick cracking the hologram sheathed machine straight on the jaw throwing it to the ground. The not inconsiderable energy the leap required had to be counterbalanced and Gambit set his legs quickly for what he knew would be a difficult landing. It became even more difficult than he had imagined when his foot slipped on a thin sheet of ice that had not been there moments before. Saddled with the dampener Gambit did not have the time or the reflexes to save himself, and he fell backwards at the same moment Wolverine had a backwards swipe with his claws.

Three prongs of adamantium sliced with laughable ease through worn leather and muscle tissue, catching Gambit's upper left shoulder. They were pulled out just as quickly and Gambit let out a rough Cajun curse that was more in the neighborhood of a scream. The area was already saturated with the hologram induced smell of the mechanical men's blood, and Wolverine did not notice anything amiss, caught up within his own vicious battle.

Lying on the ground, his teeth set in a pain-filled snarl, Gambit grabbed a card with what he would be referring to for awhile as his good arm, and sent the crackling missile towards the tower of the ice-covered X-Man. The red hot glow of the card easily surged over the energy meter's parameters and the room shut down, Bobby giving a startled yelp as the card made its target and his ice-slide disintegrated. Archangel, going against his earlier advisement, swooped down in an attempt to grab his life long friend. But the dampeners, a separate device not part of their exercise controlled by the Danger Room, were still active, and the duo crashed to the floor.

The pair disentangled themselves with no small amount of grunts and shoving of elbows as they struggled to rise, accusations burning on their tongues.

"I hope you have a damn good explanation for that LeBeau, you could have killed him!" shouted Archangel his blue face flushed from exertion and anger.

"Really? I be de one dodging ice pylons all day, I t'ink I be de one deserve'n de explanation!" Gambit shot back.

"Lemme see the arm Gumbo," said Wolverine, but Gambit shook him off angrily too upset to let the throbbing injury be looked at.

"First, y' try t' skewer me wit' de damn ice pilings…Den," he continued stalking forward waving his uninjured arm dramatically, "y' sneak a patch of ice right where Gambit's gonna land, an' I end up gettin' a pair of claws ripped through my arm."

"For someone who is supposed to have such great acrobatic skills I fail to see how it was that great of a hardship to get out of the way. And if you're hell bent on blaming somebody, try the guy who owns the claws," shouted Archangel.

"An' dat wouldn'a happened unless I slipped. Odd how dat patch of ice appeared just in time eh Iceman?"

"I wouldn't do anything like that on purpose," replied Bobby, "with all these stupid parameters it's easy for some of my ice to slip away from me. But you did try to hurt me on purpose! You totally overreacted, but it's not like that's a rarity."

"If you were having problems with this exercise, you should have said something earlier," put in Warren.

Gambit who did not get along with the two at the best of times, felt an internal flush at the accusation that he had not been able to cut it with the more senior X-Men. Though, in his opinion, the only seniority they had over him was years on the team. He had them beat on life experience, whether he was battling Sentinels at seventeen or not. In either case, he had been holding his own quite well until he started to receive the little presents from the X-Mansion's walking, talking, Popsicle.

"Since I'm de one who be spend time gettin' de stitches, I'd say I be entitled t' a little overreactin'," he said sarcastically. "'Sides I t'ink Iceman be de one who be havin' problems wit' dis exercise, no surprise dere either," he mocked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" spat out a flustered Bobby.

"Want me t' write it down for y?" asked Gambit mockingly, fishing the dampener out of his pocket, flicking it away with an impatient gesture, deciding not to explode it only at the last minute. Beast and Scott had spent enough time working on them that the fallout for destroying one was not worth the momentary satisfaction.

"Knock it off you two, before ya say something yer gonna regret," growled Wolverine finally, disgusted at having to play baby-sitter yet again.

"Mine as well let it drop Bobby, you're never going to get Gambit to admit he was wrong about anything. Thieves have no sense of right and wrong."

Bobby acquiesced to his friend grudgingly and stepped further back, a disgruntled look swirling in his blue eyes.

"Sure, we can always do dis later, eh Iceman? Gambit's got better t'ings to do den wait 'round here all day watching 'Angel trippin' over himself to coverin' for y'."

A muttered comment slipped past him compliments of Iceman and the only recognizable word, "Rogue," was enough to set off the already simmering Cajun. Gambit lunged, and a startled Iceman went forward to meet him, the other two X-Men scrambling after to get ahold. Neither Warren or Wolverine made it on time—Cyclops did though.

He burst in between the pair, shoving them apart with a hand each, built-up momentum from running to the argument put to good use. The near combatants eyed each other warily but made no further attempt to continue the physical portion of their confrontation.

"Jesus, can't you guys ever stay out of trouble? Do I even want to know what started the idiocy this time?" Scott asked.

"Gambit went psycho because he tripped and got snagged on Wolverine's claws," tattled Warren.

"Dat ain't de way it happened," argued Remy.

Cyclops looking oddly out of place in his khaki combo amongst the colorful costumes of his teammates, trained his ruby vision on the Cajun's injured arm, "I'm not in the mood to deal with you Gambit. Get down to the infirmary."

"Already on m' way dere Cyke. Not like y' ever believed a word dis Cajun said anyways."

"Like your word is worth anything," commented Warren, no love lost between the two.

Gambit replied with but a snarl, his long strides eating up the ground as he slammed his way out of the Danger Room, his duster slinking behind him.

"Warren, you get out too, I want Bobby's side of the story first."

"I'll back up anything Bobby says, you know Gambit is not exactly the most balanced member of the team," said Archangel.

"Later," Scott commented shortly and waited till the other mutant slipped out of his peripheral vision.

"You want to tell me what this was all about?"

"Well—"

"I'm so sick of this childishness, you know to never attack another member of this team. What you guys were even doing in here is—"

"Why are you jumping all over me?" questioned Bobby, "You should be giving this speech to Gambit, he came after me first. I was just defending myself."

"Go ahead and give me your version, and you better hope it matches everyone else's later. What set this off?"

"I've been trying to tell you, but you keep interrupting me. Gambit got shish-ka-bobbed in the arm by Wolverine and he's blaming me—"

"Where'd Wolverine go?" Cyclops said suddenly, interrupting once more.

"I don't know, you basically threw everybody out, he probably left with Warren. Did you want me to finish this story or…" Bobby asked, his anger cooling by degrees. Pranks aside, he tried not to really piss off people as a sign of good manners, even more so when the house one lived in had certain people with the equivalent of C-4 at their beck and call. Despite that fact, sharing the mansion with Remy had taught him something else: if you didn't stand up to Gambit immediately he had a way of taking you to the ground and making sure it hurt. Verbal or physical, it didn't seem to matter to him as long as the other person lost. Although with this particular encounter he wasn't sure who came out the winner.

"Don't go anywhere," Scott ordered, "we'll finish this up later. I have a feeling Logan's about to do something stupid, again."

Scott rushed out, only slightly slower than he entered; Wolverine was one of the team's best fighters, and at odd times the sagest philosopher. Logan could also have one of the sternest views on responsibility when he chose. He could slaughter a field of enemies without any appreciable remorse, but something like accidentally injuring a teammate would make him doubt himself. Make him high-tail it to greener country until he thought himself out.

The garage was ill-lighted as all garages tended to be, but the short Canadian he'd been prepared to halt in his tracks was nowhere near. Surprised, for once pleasantly so, Cyclops allowed that he could have misjudged Wolverine. Perhaps team responsibility was finally overcoming the personal for him.

Cyclops headed back to locate Warren, for once walking, a headache building between his eyes. One more fight to iron out and smooth over. No matter who he assigned blame to, both sides would be miffed for days for perceived lack, or excess of punishment, but at least they would be mad at him instead of each other, it was a start.

Gambit had made it to his room if not the infirmary doorstep as he had promised. Hissing, he gently probed the steadily bleeding wound, having already shucked his coat and spread it out on his comforter to keep any stray droplets of blood from dripping on it. It didn't look all that bad, but it always felt worse after you saw blood. He could almost feel the claws ripping back out of the meat of his shoulder, an experience he did not want the opportunity to repeat, ever. It hadn't reached the bone, but it had made a mess of his arm. All the time he spent sparring one-on-one with Wolverine, and he had never been tagged. Instead, he ends up at the wrong end of Logan's claws during a group exercise. He'll never hear the end of it, of course if it hadn't been for the ice…

Remy let his hand drop from his arm when, sans knocking, Wolverine opened let himself into the Cajun's room and nodded his greeting, "Sorry about the arm Gumbo." For once Logan refrained from leaning against the door, singe marks and a grimy combo of human and mechanical fluids from the torn apart 'bots still staining his uniform.

"No worries mon ami, jus' a flesh wound neh?" the Cajun replied with a thin smile walking around from his bed.

Wolverine snorted, used to but not fond of the Cajun's mercurial moods, and a flesh wound it was not, searing through the mass of muscles of Gambit's arm. "Ya made it sound like a big deal ta the 'Cube."

"Bobby t'inks he can get away wit' anyt'ing, 'm tired o' it. Y' had a slip up, an' I can' say dat I'm exactly real fond o' y' right now, but it was an accident. Iceman did it on purpose," he said having dug out a half-gone roll of gauze from his dresser drawer to roll around his arm.

"Maybe it's worse that way, an accident," Logan replied shaking his head, "I didn't even notice right off."

"Don' beat y'self up about it, ain' mad at y', Remy advised, "An' Gambit don' hold grudges."

"Somehow I don't believe that," Logan replied standing straighter but still nowhere near the Cajun's 6'1'' frame, "Make sure ya see Hank before ya go haring off."

"Sure Logan, no problem," Gambit replied with every intention of ignoring the advice, twice duplicated thus far. Of course when Storm made it back, he'd have it in triplicate, the thought scrawling a short-lived smirk across his features.

Logan, knowing the Cajun's ability to push off visits to the lab near indefinitely took a little more pro-active step. Already at the door, he pressed one of the numerous pre-sets on the intercom panel set flush to the wall. A low beep before Henry McCoy's jovial voice was heard through the speaker:

"What can I do for you my Cajun companion?"

"It's me Hank," spoke Wolverine gruffly.

"Logan?" Hank asked with some alarm, "What's wrong?"

"Down-shift Beast, no emergency, but Gambit ended up taking some claw through the arm. Ain't bleeding real bad, but it'll get infected pretty quick, just making sure ya knew about it."

"Of course, thank you Logan. When can I expect you Gambit?"

"Oh I'm already dere," Gambit replied with false dramaticism, sorting through a few trinkets on the top of his dresser.

"You know, the longer it takes for you to get here the more tests I can conceive."

"Is dat why I only had 'bout a pint o' blood left by de time I got outta dere de last time?"

"I'll see you in a few minutes," replied Beast the white noise of the speaker ceasing as the connection cut off.

"I'll get dere when I get dere," Remy growled rebelliously at the now silent intercom, shooting a look at the traitor.

"It's for your own good Gumbo," Wolverine remarked, "See ya 'round." Gambit lifted his head from readjusting his bandages but Wolverine had already gone.

Logan quickly made his way down the stairs and onto the bike he'd left beside the house from a drive earlier in the day, his mind ticking all the while. For their line of work Gambit's wound was minor, and Gumbo didn't even seem upset over Logan's role in his injury. But Logan knew it should never have happened. He should have had better control than that. The holograms had always been startlingly realistic, he'd been surrounded, and they were testing out a previously unused piece of technology. Valid excuses all, but to him, they were not enough together or alone. Sadly enough, it was normal working conditions for the X-Men. He was Wolverine; he had to have better control, he had to.

A/N: I'm trying a lot of new things with this story, (comparative to my others) one of which being the attempt to keep this PG-13, so if you noticed this was a little light on angst/injuries that'd be why.

Next chapter: Rogue and Gambit interaction, plus a little more Scott.


	2. Swinging

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.**

Gambit having met up with his better thing to do, swung side by side his lady love, Rogue. They had driven to one of the local parks and quickly claimed two of the adult swings, the cloudy weather keeping most park-goers indoors. It was summer though, and the weather was warm so the Southerners felt blessed by the clouds—at least it kept screaming toddlers at bay.

Rogue faced the sun, or where the sun would be should there be a break in the clouds. Gambit faced oppositely, his face leaning close against the aging chain. Going in opposite directions they pushed themselves slowly, their long legs trailing, deepening the sand pits formed by earlier occupants.

"I thought we were gonna have ta build an ark with all the rain we've been getting lately," Rogue commented idly. "Glad it's finally dried out."

She closed her eyes, feeling the soft wind pass by, eddying around her jeans, teal patterned long-sleeve shirt and gloves. She inhaled the clear fragrance of air mingled with grass and earth, scents that couldn't travel with her at the heights she usually flew. She gave herself a small moment to long for the scents and sights of her hometown in Mississippi before bringing herself back to reality. Turning sideways she opened her eyes to another sensory delight, the grinning visage of her fellow languisher, Gambit. The overcast sky did nothing for his tousled brown hair and she wished for the sun for a moment, knowing it would pull out the vibrant reds that normally hid in his dark brown hair.

"Have to take y' word on dat one chere, haven' been able to take my eyes off y'," he drawled, eyes following her form suggestively.

"Stuff it, Swamp Rat," she spoke crinkling her nose, giving him a light swat on the shoulder as he smirked back at her. Wondering if he had noticed her perusal of him and was mocking her for it.

"Easy chere," he yelped, "'M fragile non?" he joked. "Was jus' commenting on what a gorgeous companion I had to spend my day wit'. My mistake. De absence of Danger Room recycled air must be getting to me. Maybe we should go back to de mansion?" he ribbed leaning closer a devilish sparkle in his infamous red on black eyes.

"Doncha dare," she said leaning back just that much farther to the side to keep the distance between them even, "Ya know that Scott probably made his rounds by now, if ya voluntarily step back in there Scottie will cow-tail the rest of us in there too! I've had just about enough training for…" she paused, "well let's just be on the safe side and say the rest o' my life."

"Ah de ever vigilant and oh so boring days of growing up an X-Men," he said, smirking at her.

"I don't think I would choose the word boring. We had our share of villains, even back then," Rogue said reflectively.

Gambit rolled his eyes, "Dang chere, y' talk as if it was forever ago, y' ain't dat old yet."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence LeBeau, but ya know what I'm saying. Time isn't always felt in years," she said trailing her hand down the chain, not noticing when flakes of rust dirtied her gloves.

"Dat's very profound," Gambit commented, "steal dat offa Beast?"

Rogue gave an exasperated sigh that held more kindness than anger, a giggle lurking beneath her voice, "Just shut up."

"Fine, fine, if y' just gonna plagiarize dats fine. 'Course when de cops come, I'll have to confess everyt'ing I know. I'm sorry chere, I'm much too pretty to go to de big house," he said with mock solemness.

"Yeah right Cajun, it doesn't even count cuz I didn't write it down, or sell it or nothing like that. 'Sides," she continued archly, "plagiarizing is stealing, more ya cup o' tea than mine."

Gambit's easy grin dampened a bit and his neck bowed ever so slightly before bobbing back up again to full strength hoping to forestall Rogue's next statement. His joining the X-Men hadn't been an easy decision. He gave up some of the best and most exciting parts of his life. Namely, being a thief. He hadn't been able to stop cold at the gate of the mansion either, it had been more of a dwindling process. It was not exactly an addiction—he wasn't a klepto—but it was giving up something he loved, and had trained for his entire life.

Fitting into the moral code of the X-Men had been a challenge, and at times, it had seemed he would be better off on his own. His need to protect Storm kept him on at first, and later the company of Rogue. It didn't seem to matter to any of the X-Men that he had given up such a large chunk of his life for them to feel comfortable. They still saw him as a scoundrel, a thief, it made all his effort seem worthless. Of course receiving verbal smacks from the others wasn't anything new. The repetition did not stop it from being at turns, irritating, frustrating, and saddening. The X-Men tried to make him ashamed of what he felt was his most defining characteristic. What's worse, was that he was beginning to believe it, because there _were_ things in his past that he was ashamed of. And maybe had he never been a thief, those circumstances would never have come about.

The X-Men told him he couldn't be a thief. He stopped. And yet, to them he would always be a thief.

"Remy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" Rogue said exasperated able to recognize the mental loop Remy had thrown himself into.

"Hey chere, Gambit knows. It ain't a big deal," he said.

"Look Gambit…I know ya don't wanta talk about Bobby and everything, but since ya already in a bad mood," she joked. "How is ya arm holding up?"

"I said I'm okay, dat means I am. D'accord? Bobby an' what he t'inks o' me is one of my last concerns. I ain't sayin' I wouldn' like a bit o' retribution here or dere," Gambit mused shaking his head, "But it's in de past, non? Let's enjoy t'day 'fore some psycho mutant sprouts purple skin an' monster telepathy an' attacks N'York."

Rogue stilled for a moment honestly considering making an attempt toward their former jocularity but the lightheartedness slipped from her grasp faster than the Ming vase she'd broken last week.

"I'm sure they didn't mean it the way it came out. And I know Bobby, he wouldn't hurt anybody on purpose. Ya should have taken him at his word."

"Yeah, get right on dat," Gambit muttered, keeping the more vicious thoughts to himself. She could trust Bobby on his word, but not Gambit, he was the thief, the liar, he wasn't to be trusted.

His relationships with the majority of the X-Men were tenuous at best and tended to slid in and out of friendship at a moments notice from little altercations like this. His only real friend seemed to be Storm who had known him before his becoming a member of the X-Men. She never demanded more or less than she saw of him in that initial encounter. Gambit had spent plenty of time on both sides of the friendship fence with Rogue. Eventually he'd dug himself his own entrance under a loose board—surprised her every time.

Rogue herself was caught between conflicting ties of friendship and love not knowing whether to defend Bobby to Gambit, or Gambit to Bobby. Unsure, she did both.

"Sometimes it…I don't know. Maybe if they…" she dropped off for a second, clearly meaning and wanting to say 'I', "knew ya a little better then they wouldn't say such stuff. If ya opened up a bit more, they wouldn't be so quick ta judge, 'cuz they'd know," she finished lamely, eyes skittering into contact with his ruby ones before quickly zeroing in on some verdant stalks of grass.

"I don' care what dey t'ink of me, but y' know me Rogue," Remy said his normally odd but comforting whisky-smooth voice sounding at once soft and tired, "I've been here for a couple years already. Tru' battle, home-livin', petty-fightin' an' everyt'ing," he said not quite able to force the word love out his throat. "I don' know what else to do. Y' been to my hometown more often den I been to y'rs. If y' ain't figured m' out yet it be a little late in de game f—"

Rogue swallowed her instinctive anger that had started to bubble up. That Cajun did have a way of twisting things so he seemed like the victim. Maybe Bobby's version of events was correct after all. It seemed like all the 'them' conversations they had about the X-Men, always turned into 'them' the couple conversations. Although, she could probably blame this one on herself.

"Gambit," she said her voice an enforced calm climbing off the swing and standing, watching him squarely as he straddled his swing looking more like a willful child than the mercurial man she knew. "Sometimes it's good to know what's made a person, not just the end product. Ya get a better feeling of who they are."

"Y' lookin' for somet'ing to hate Rogue?" he asked smoothly rising to his feet his height advantage immediately apparent. "Y' need a reason to break t'ings off again?" he asked feeling colder even though he knew the weather had not altered a single degree.

"No!" she exclaimed startled, "No. Just dangit Remy, don't jump ta conclusions. I just want ta know more about ya. So I know when things come up like this."

"What, so y' know who to believe? Can' take de word of dis t'ief unless y' give 'em a background check? An' what if I said dat anyt'ing more dat I could tell y' about my past would break us up, make y' hate me, jus' like I said before?"

"Don't dramatize Gambit," Rogue said cocking her head slightly with a small head shake of annoyance, "not everything is life and death, there's no way it's all bad. An' ya know I care about ya, and I want this to work out. Believe me if I didn't… I understand some things are difficult to talk about," she continued being deliberately vague, an area she knew he reveled in, "but sometimes it helps to talk things out, ta share, ta trust one another," she finished.

"Y' want us to share?" he asked his confrontational stance shifting, dubiousness expounded by his arched brows.

"Yeah, problem?" she asked defensively, her mind supplying a singularly unhelpful thought…maybe the whole 'therapy' approach wasn't the best way to go with a guy as close-lipped as Remy. The professor, when he was home, certainly did not seem to get anywhere.

"Well?" Gambit asked after a few moments had passed only the twitter of a far off bird breaking their silence.

"Well what?" asked Rogue confused, her arms crossed against her chest belligerently.

"Ain't y' gonna say anyt'ing," Gambit gestured laying out a flat palm, "Y' know, share."

"I was waiting on ya," she responded stubbornly he emerald eyes glinting.

Gambit's own gaze, enchanting as always, never wavered, "Why do I always have to go first?" he asked softly.

Rogue's mouth opened startled, "Well I suggested it. I figured it was your turn."

"Really chere?" he cajoled, "Y' ain't exactly an open book. So why am I always expected to go first? Is it just cuz I'm de guy, or are y' not willing to put y' trust in a t'ief. Least ways not until y' get some kind of collateral."

"I tol' ya already…dang it Remy I—"

"Yeah here we go again," Gambit muttered in disgust his fist flexing as it tightened around one of the chains, "We always get dis far and freeze. Always."

"Ya don't even know what I'm going ta say," she said crowding closer to poke an index finger into his chest.

"Non, but I heard it before," he muttered turning away.

"Listen here LeBeau!" Rogue exclaimed gathering a handful of his flimsy t-shirt and holding him in place, speaking through gritted teeth, "I am willing ta make some exceptions here, some. Only because I know ya got ta be brain-damaged."

"I am datin' y'," Gambit responded automatically.

"Ya better watch where yah walking Cajun," she threatened, willing him to remember just who had the super-strength in this relationship.

"What den," Gambit asked, "we jus' gonna stand here like dis till de rain decides to make a return visit?"

"Give me a minute," she muttered darkly, "I'm taking a leap o' faith here and I don't exactly see a pile of fluffy pillows at the bottom." Rogue slowly unclenched her fist, tugged on Gambit's shirt briskly in an attempt to straighten it and deliberately sat back down, emerald eyes seeming to lash out and tie him back down. Remy responded sitting stiffly across from her, silent, not even the creak of the swings infringing on the moment.

"I-I hear all these stories from the mutants we meet up with…and they say, they say how scared they were when their powers first manifested because they were all alone. No one to confide in or anything. Most of them didn't want to be a mutant, most of them still don't want to be a mutant," she said her eyes losing focus at a point past Gambit's shoulder. Gathering courage she forced herself to return his curious look.

"I think they were lucky. By themselves they couldn't hurt nobody. My powers came through like a run-away steam engine. Slam, ran right over Cody. I didn't even get a warning, neither of us did, just one minute we were kissing, the next…he was in a coma."

"I was gone for one day—one day," Cyclops ranted as he paced. "Alright Beast once more if you would, from the top," said Cyclops with what he felt was an extremely patient tone of voice.

"You said there was an emergency, which we have yet to get to the bottom of?" Beast said from his reclined position beside one of the many computer terminals in his lab.

"I'll fill you in later," Scott promised.

"Alright then, as long as you keep your word Fearless Leader. As you already know, you and I had made the new alterations for the Danger Room Weariness in Battle training sessions. You had your 'emergency' and left with Jean. You called the test off, and had the computer lock up the Danger Room. I came down to my lab to make a few last minute adjustments on the dampeners…though I'm not positive they shouldn't be called accelerators…"

"Beast?"

"Sorry, well that's about all," Beast said adjusting his glasses with a well-manicured paw, "I didn't find out anything else until Wolverine called down from Gambit's room. He said an accident had occurred, and he was the cause. I had a feeling Logan might not be here in the morning."

"I can't believe he just left," said Scott incredulously. "I knew I should have trusted my instincts and looked harder."

"No offense intended Scott, but one would think you'd get used to this by now. In any event I doubt Wolverine will be gone for long."

"Gambit's injury?"

"It isn't life threatening by any means; I am not certain why there has been such an uproar over it. Our dear Gambit received a pair of a certain Canadian's claws through his left shoulder. Once I found the injured party I basically had to hog-tie him to make sure he got the proper stitches, ointment, antibiotics etc. Heaven knows if he's actually taking them."

"I cannot believe this," Cyclops rejoined. "I had the Danger Room locked up tight. I'll give you three guesses as to who opened it Hank. How he got the others to go through with it when I specifically told them not to operate it without me, I'll never understand. Then we have Gambit who gets lazy in the Danger Room—slips—and blames everybody under the sun but himself. Who, is the one actually responsible for all of this in the first place, by opening up the Danger Room!"

"So I take it you don't see eye to eye with Gambit's view on the events," spoke Henry, smiling with a hint of fang.

"Of course not. Warren agrees with Bobby, and Bobby had no reason to lie or try to hurt Gambit. The man has so many ulterior motives he just assumes everyone else has them too. Rogue and Storm are the only one who stayed out of this madness, since they were at the store. All hail the chore wheel," Scott said, rotating his neck attempting to release at least some of the building tension. "How long before Gambit's physically fit for duty?"

"He's fought with worse before, with the Shi'ar equipment…not long at all. Provided of course that I can get him down here for the treatments. Gambit has an uncanny knack of avoiding this place when he's injured."

"Don't worry Hank, if he's up to this much trouble, he must have a lot of time on his hands. I'll make sure he gets down here, after I'm through with him anyway."

"Should I provide a beaker for you to put in the remains of our young Cajun compatriot?"

Scott's visor flashed, "Not this time, but I'll keep it in mind for later."

A/N: Yeah, as you can see, Rogue is rather vital to this story so to the anti-R/G out there… sorry… A thousand apologies that it took so long to get this chapter out. I'm having issues with the later chapters of this story, and I didn't want to have to rewrite this one later to make everything fit. So, we will see how it goes. : )


	3. Hold Today

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.**

"Gambit, you're looking well," Warren said brushing by him through the swinging kitchen door, a newspaper folded neatly under one arm.

"Worthington, I'm surprised y' be down here wit' de little people," Remy replied to the snide comment. His appearance he knew was lacking a certain appeal. His general clothing style was casual, but he was currently in his work clothes composed of material too stubborn to give up despite the gaps and gashes plaguing them. The conversation he'd had with Cyclops had been unpleasant to say the least. Whatever menial work would have been hired out or meted throughout the others had been granted solely to him.

The man probably wouldn't have been quite as mad if Gambit had agreed to show the X-Men's field leader just how he had managed to open the supposedly sealed Danger Room. Trade secrets were trade secrets after all. Scott was going through the computer like a man possessed, reordering systems and rearranging components. His thought process was, if he had to work to 'fix' the systems, than Gambit had to be working too. Cyclops was notorious for being anal when it came to details, and Gambit had a feeling he would be busy for awhile.

Wolverine's sudden departure had put Cyclops, and surprise, surprise, Jean, in a bad mood. Gambit felt he should hardly be blamed for the event. Wolverine tended to go off on his own on a fairly regular basis. Remy was pretty sure that there was a pattern to it—he had a theory it was tied to eclipses. Somehow Scott hadn't seen the amusement factor in his analysis. Then again, when was the last time Scott had been amused by anything?

What it all boiled down to of course was that he had less and less time to spend with Rogue. Left to her own devices he was afraid she'd convince herself to quit reaching out, and they'd be back to square one. Worse she'd blame him for pressuring her again, not accepting her and her reality. But with a few gentle and not so gentle nudges they'd be on their way.

"Brother?" a melodic voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey chere," Gambit replied hopping onto the countertop, his ever ready smirk brightening as he spotted his favorite and only windrider clad in one of the wispy outfits she seemed so found of in the summer months.

"What are you up to?" she questioned raising a silver eyebrow suspiciously.

"Who says I be up to anyt'ing?"

"I know that look. It is the same look you had right before you told me of your plan to steal the Star of the South diamond," Storm said pointedly. "You never told me, did you pull off the heist?"

"Eh Stormie, y' know me, de jewel was in its proper place. I would never have stolen it."

"Something tells me believing you would be a mistake," Storm said in a chiding tone, reaching beside him for a clean glass and filling it with tap water.

"Dat hurts chere, really."

"Too true I'm sure. Now no more diversions. What have you planned? And I beg you whatever it is, leave Scott out of it. I don't think he can take any more, and I certainly cannot take anymore of him."

"Why he be mad at y'?"

"He was gone, I was in charge," Storm said simply tilted blue eyes calm and clear.

"But y' weren' here," Gambit said stating the obvious. "An' nobody said to call y', since he was supposed to be back pretty quick."

"Well it seems I should have known instinctively," she kidded. "Jean is on my side and really I think what Cyclops is more concerned about is my inability to control you."

"Excuse moi, when did Gambit become y' pet?"

"Perhaps I chose the wrong word," Storm offered. "But I brought you to the team. Goddess knows that Cyclops has not been able to get through to you. He expects me to be able to fit you into the mold, as it were. Yesterdays antics are supposedly a reflection upon me."

"Everybody be tryin' to make somebody over. I blame reality TV," Gambit muttered under his breath. "Don' worry Storm, I don' see why everybody be tryin' to take credit for somet'ing dat wasn't dere responsibility in de first place."

"I believe it is the X-Men creed."

"Cynicism from y' chere, I'm shocked," Gambit grinned, his eyes lighting up.

"Well we all tire from time to time. Please at least try to stay out of trouble for awhile longer," she pleaded laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I promise Scott will never know."

Storm, on her way out the door, stopped short. "That was not exactly what I meant," she said concern pinching her features, but when she turned, Gambit as he often did, had already slipped away.

"Rogue, bout what we were talk'n bout de otha day..."

"No, Remy I don't want ta talk about that anymore. I thought we had an agreement," she interrupted tension singing down her spine. The thief just never knew when to quit.

"An' y' said sharing. T'ru sharing comes trust…an' den some other stuff," he spoke hastily. "But y' were honest bout y' powers. What y' really felt bout dem, now I jus' wanta help Rogue! Come on petite, y' neva know if y' don' eva try," the Cajun spoke convincingly.

Rogue brushed her hands roughly against her jeans trying to keep the bitter expression off her face. The couple had finally gotten some time for themselves despite the Danger Room fiasco, and they had connected, at least she thought so. But the Cajun couldn't leave that moment, that memory alone. Gambit had to ruin it, bringing up her powers again. She had her turn at sharing and look where it had led her, into another interrogation by her supposed lover. Shouldn't it be his turn? Hers powers were inseparable from herself and she'd accepted that fact, and had said as much yesterday; it did not help either of them to dwell on what might be.

"Ya are supposed ta be quiet, say ya understand till it's ya turn to share. I don't want ya ta try and get in the middle of my problems. I guess ya neva really did this whole sharing thing before didja?" she asked rhetorically. "Course I seemed ta have done more than my fair part of the sharing.

Just stop wishing for something that ain't never gonna happen. It'll only hurt us both. I accept my powers Swamp Rat, you should too," she continued glaring at him through thick eyelashes.

"Rogue y' haven' accepted y' powers. If y' did dey wouldn' bother y' so much." The vicious curl to her lip convinced Gambit that his little insight wasn't exactly appreciated.

"Rogue," Gambit tried again, trying to corner her in the hallway with a smoothly muscled forearm. "Okay, I know dat yesterday was a little one-sided, but dere is only so much dat we can deal wit' at one time right? I didn' want to add on t' de load."

Rogue immediately looked affronted brilliant green eyes widening, "Well I am so sorry that I have so much emotional baggage that ya can't bear ta add to it!"

"Dat ain't what I mean!" Gambit said quickly, a despairing thoughts running through his mind. They spent more time explaining themselves than talking it seemed. Some things were easier said and felt through touch, a kiss in the right moment in the right way could share more emotion, show more feeling than a week of words. Impossible with Rogue, and their arguments went around and around.

"Y' can' keep livin' like dis, afraid t' touch, afraid t' try…Y' powers will neva change if y' don' do anything about dem! I know I ain't de first person t' say dis Rogue, but when y' gonna start listenin'?" he asked, his frustration creeping up on him.

"Ya listen here Mista LeBeau! I have done plenty ta try and work out my powers. Nothing works! It's time ta just admit that they'll always be like this! Just forget," she repeated strongly.

"When Rogue," he asked with seeming courteousness.

"When what?" she snipped back, not in a mood for another round of questioning by her beau, though he might not be for long with the upper-handed attitude he'd adopted, she thought darkly.

"When was de last time y' tried to do sometin' bout y' powers?" he asked deliberately, refusing to let the subject be brushed aside once again as it had the previous day. As soon as the subject of what she actually wanted to have done about her powers rose, Rogue had immediately clammed up. Feigning feeling a raindrop Rogue had led Gambit into a collective exit from the park, dry the whole way home.

Rogue's brow furrowed lightly as she tried to remember, pushing aside the tattered memories she'd absorbed to find her own. She had originally come to the X-Men to learn to control her powers as a young woman, but she was twenty-three now, that seemed like a lifetime ago. She had tried a few times with Moira and Beast to gain control over her powers, but again that had been long in the past and had ended unsatisfactorily. At some point she had given up searching for a cure. Sure in the knowledge that the only way to keep her powers in check were inhibitors, or medication donated by less than benevolent villains, she gave up, neither options she was willing to consider.

"I don't know, it's been awhile," she grunted, "but I don't think anybody's come up with any breakthroughs since then," Rogue added glancing away obliquely from the strong pull of his dark eyes, crimson iris in flame.

"I ain't talkin' bout Xavier, or Bete chere, I mean you Rogue. When was de last time y' tried to control y' powers," stressed Remy.

"I don't know—every day!" shouted Rogue slamming his arm out of her path her strength just short of breaking bone, glaring angrily at the auburn haired man. "My powers are dangerous! I can't go experimenting in my free time."

"Everybody's powers are dangerous chere, not jus' y'," he retorted forcefully. "Any one of de people in de mansion could kill if dey wanted. Me and Cyclops tear up a place real quick if we wanted to. Heck chere, Bobby could freeze de blood in y' veins and nobody be de wiser…We all practice so we don' hurt each other cher. Y' can do de same."

"If I knew I was gonna be getting a lecture outta all this, I never woulda told ya anything. I thought we could just be together, no pressure, I guess I was wrong, ya just like every other man I've met," Rogue snapped brown hair whipping as she whirled around to stride down the hall. Gambit followed quickly and caught her arm before she could fly away, more than once having their conversation cut short in such a decisive manner.

"Chere, Rogue…" Remy spoke quietly in what he hoped was a calming voice, not wanting his own aggravation to give her an excuse to depart. For someone who wanted no pressure, she sure had a lot of questions, and expectations to go along with them. He had a feeling he'd give her the wrong answer some day and she would disappear on him.

"I know y' scared petite, but I am here for y'. I know y' powers are dangerous, an' not just to otha people, but to y' too. I jus' want to help non? Please chere," he pleaded. Rogue's determined set of shoulders eased at the fervent honesty in his voice, a quality she knew he used sparingly, and she collapsed bonelessly against the wall, a truculent expression on her face. Eyes that had been snapping a moment ago seemed drained.

"I know ya do Gambit. A lotta people do," she added ironically. "But I don't think ya can. I don't want ta live like this, who would?" she said harshly. "But I won't hurt anyone else just because one of my silly wants. Ya understand don't ya Gambit? I mean…Cody…Carol, and I finally got the voices under control…I'm not sure it's worth it ta try for more. Maybe this is all I get, I'm supposed ta be this way. I want to be able ta touch, more than ya know, but I can live without it for the rest of my life if it means I won't hurt anyone else."

"Oh chere," Gambit returned knowingly, "dats just guilt talkin' dere. An' it ain't a silly want, it's a basic human…want," he said skipping over the word desire knowing with their physical closeness she would interpret it incorrectly—perhaps he was learning.

"Y' don' have to live like dis if y' don't want to. Everyone's powers are controllable, at least to an extent,"

"Is that so? I don't think I've ever seen Beast turn off his blue fur."

A pursed smile, as he revised, "de energy-based powers den, not de physical."

"Personally I think I fall in ta both categories. Besides, Havok, Cyclops—"

"Were y' dropped outta a plan when y' were a kid?"

"No."

"Den I t'ink y' be fine. What happened wit' Cody was jus' a mistake. Y' powers had manifested pretty quick, y' couldn' have know dat woulda happened. Y' got to let go of dat chere , focus on de control y' can earn today…not de loss of de control y' had yesterday."

"I can't hurt anybody else," she repeated clutching her fists.

"I know that Rogue, dat one of de t'ings dat so great bout y'. Y' be one de strongest people dat I know, but y' spend most of de time wondering if y' might be hurtin' other people. But if y' don' try to control y' powers, y' be hurting more people jus' on accident," he said bluntly. Emerald eyes locked with a sympathetic set of lightly glowing ruby eyes.

"How Remy?" she demanded. "Even if I did agree ta this, then what? Henry, the Professor, Moira…geniuses have failed, what do ya plan ta do differently Remy LeBeau?" she questioned shaking her head. "Control of my powers is so out of reach for me Gambit, ya don't understand. Hoping, wishing like this, it just sets me up for a fall. And I'm tired of it."

"I'll catch you," Gambit assured quickly, "Dere ain't nothin' wrong wit' wishing on a star chere… dats how I found y'."

"I'm sure," she replied dryly, hesitatingly meeting his eyes, for once willingly letting him take the lead in the conversation.

"I don' have everytin' planned out jus' yet Rogue," he admitted with a wry but fetching grin, "but de first step would be to try it out non?"

"So what are ya saying Swamp Rat?" she questioned narrowing her eyes.

"Y've never really used y' powers dat often chere, an' when y' do, it be in battle, de heat of de moment, not lots o' concentration," he put forth watching her reaction.

"I suppose that's true enough," Rogue allowed a small grin creeping up on her features.

The childlike part of herself she kept cordoned off from the rest was jumping up in down with glee, someone was going to help her. Remy wasn't going to let her push him away, she knew how stubborn the man could be. He'd stay until he fixed the problem or die trying.

That's what the responsible adult was afraid of. Remy cared about her. Getting him to say 'I love you' had always been another matter. But she felt it, or at least she hoped she did. Despite the fights, the break-ups he was still heart-stricken over her. He would stay by her, even if it was not healthy for him.

"So what do y' t'ink Rogue? If…" he started over searching for the right words, "I t'ink dat if we jus' practice enough it'll work. Nothin' gets betta if y' jus' sittin' round. We don' have to tell anybody if y' don' want. Y' can just surprise dem one day neh?" he asked smiling brightly as if he wasn't suggesting a plan that could possibly lose him his life, or send him into a months long coma.

"Remy…" Rogue spoke exhaling loudly boring a hole with her gaze and biting her lower lip gently, "I'll do it," she blurted out before her rational side could take over. "But you're right I don't want ta tell anybody yet. I don't think I need the extra pressure." She lay her gloved hand hesitatingly over Remy's shirt sleeve, "Promise me," she insisted, "promise ya will stop, and let this go if it doesn't work out. I won't lose ya over this. Ya got me Swamp Rat?" Rogue threatened using an iota of her super-strength to dent his muscles.

A brilliant smile burst out over the Cajun-breds face, glad to have gotten his way, but he dimmed it down wetting his lips before replying seriously, "Y' have my word Rogue, but let Gambit decided when he's had enough, not y', eh chere? Y' have a tendency to be overprotective," he spoke through his smile.

"Well we'll see," she allowed, "but the second I start using ya accent without meaning to we'll stop. I love ya sugah, but I don't want ta be ya."

"Fair enough," Gambit answered quietly and was surprised when Rogue leaned back into his embrace. He lowered his chin until it rested lightly on top of her head wrapping his arms around her frame as close as her powers would currently permit.

"Soon," Rogue replied to his unasked question, and the pair stood in a thick silence, knowing that the coming trials would fundamentally change their relationship. For better or for worse, they were taking the next step.

A/N: Hey Guys, thanks for the reviews—

BJ2, calliopeia, coldqueen, Golden Elanor, ishandahalf, Jen, MJK, Pincher, Siarra, Streetwise Girl, Sweety8587, and Tammy.


	4. Stronger

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.**

Gambit wiped his hand across his forehead smearing sweat and dirt. With the overzealous Scott still reworking the systems Remy had been assigned the ever so fun task of rearranging the shed. A wreck of a place if he had ever saw one. It was one of the great mysteries in life that despite how many times the place had been leveled or invaded there was still enough stuff to pack the shed which was actually big enough to be a second garage. An even greater mystery was that every time he took a break, the boxes seemed to multiply behind his back. Maybe it was time to call Ripley's.

Having snagged a water bottle from the refrigerator Gambit held it up to his forehead letting the condensation soothe him. If he was going to be sequestered in the horrible shed for the remainder of the day he definitely needed this break. He had nothing against working, but how was he supposed to work alone for hours against apparently mutating boxes with an eerie rapidity of growth? Three hours was more than enough, even if the mess in the shed didn't even look as though he'd sneezed at it.

Gambit kicked back his chair to two legs and peered at the ceiling aimlessly. More often than not he found himself gravitating to the kitchen. Surprisingly enough, not just for the food. The kitchen, despite it's proliferation of trendy kitchenware, was one of the few rooms in the X-Men abode that didn't feel like a mansion or a mutant terrorist headquarters. Remy wasn't a all-out advocate for the Rockwell version of normalcy, but even he had to admit the chipper yellow walls and the sun streaming in through the windows gave it a homey feel. A feel, he was saddened to admit, he did miss. His Tante Mattie's kitchen had a similar, bright-enough-to-be-annoying yellow, themed kitchen. The only thing that was missing was the smell of Gumbo.

A thump of a palm striking the wood of the outer door alerted him to Jean's arrival. He tilted his head in greeting and she gave a stiff nod back bee-lining for the coffee pot. Remy gave her only cursory attention until he realized she was lingering excessively. Gambit turned in his chair and examined the room, yep they were the only two inhabitants. Jean was carefully working herself up to something, and he had a feeling it might not be good for him.

Dodging around the kitchen Jean ever so slowly putting away the coffee maker, cleaning up every last crumb of spilled Folgers from the heavy marble tabletops. For a woman who spent so much time learning the nuances of the mental landscape, she often missed the physical cues that Gambit made into an art form. Jean had always been a bit of a nervous cleaner and her hurried actions were basically a shout of her mood. The woman was gearing up for a speech.

Other than a small, quickly smoothed over fight with Rogue yesterday Gambit had no idea why Jean would be initiating a conversation with him. It had all the earmarks of it, their talk would not be the easy chatter that went on throughout the mansion, but a 'conversation.' With learning and growth, Gambit thought scoffing to himself. Well with Wolverine having skipped town she was down one pet project, he thought.

"Gambit?"

"Oui Jean?" he replied courteously, taking in her braced set of shoulders under a pink cardigan that did nothing so ever for her frame. She wore it constantly though, maybe Scott had given it to her, he was the only one color-blind enough to buy it.

"Do you have a moment?"

"For y' chere, anything."

"Well I don't think I have to tell you that I heard your fight with Rogue last night," she said calm eyes accessing.

"De whole house probably did, dat femmes got a voice dat could shake down timber. We wake y'?"

"No, yes, but that's not the point. I don't think I have to tell you that you and Rogue have had increasingly tense moments. I'm not sure how to broach this delicately…but, have you considered taking some time for yourself? Let things simmer down? It has helped Scott and I on a few occasions."

"No offense Jean, but y' break was y' bein' dead an' Cyclops gettin' re-married. I be de first one to say I ain't had de best luck wit' relationships, but I know Rogue. It's gotta be equal tension on de line or it'll snap. Rogue's worth too much to me to jus' let her go wit'out a fight."

Jean's eyes narrowed digesting his callous comment about her invasion by the Phoenix, "Is that what she is to you? A prize to claim, and a dangerous one at that?"

"Jus' cuz y' huffy without Logan fawning all over y', doesn' mean dat y' can play doctor with me cherie. Y' want to talk psycho-babble? Henri went out for de day, try his cell."

"Whether you want to listen to me or not Gambit I am a qualified psychotherapist and part of my position on the team is making sure everyone is mentally sound. Continuous tension in any form is not healthy for the body or the mind," she said leaning heavily on the countertop.

"Is dat what y' t'ink, I be unstable? Because I be one of de few people who realize how special she is, an' I work at my relationship?"

"Do you want to know what I think?" she challenged setting down her coffee cup with a slight clang.

"Go ahead Jean, ain't no one 'round to hear y' break de nice girl façade."

"You like her because she's safe, she'll never ask you to go that extra step because she can never make herself take that first one."

"Dangerous or safe Jeannie, bit o' a contradiction non? Y' bluffin', shootin' in de dark, but Gambit a much better poker player den y' chere."

"I don't think I'm wrong," she said a bit smugly, "You want the contradiction, because you can't figure yourself out either. You'll spend all your time trying to fix Rogue when you should really be working on yourself. You're a part of Rogue through your relationship, as much as she's a part of you. But even if you could magically fix Rogue, you'd still be a mess, repairing one seam doesn't fix the whole cloth. Life doesn't work that way," she warned.

Gambit spared a moment to wonder exactly how much of his discussion with Rogue the redhead had actually heard. Not enough for specifics apparently, but enough to make him wary. Remy eased back farther in his chair as Jean made motions of reaching a final statement.

"My advice," she said sagely, "deal with your own problems before diving headlong into Rogue's."

"T'anks for de impromptu session chere," Gambit said abruptly, "but y' wrong 'bout Rogue. De femme's got more courage den y'll ever know. Y' get m' check in de mail non?"

Jean watched him go with no small measure of unease. Whether he admitted it or not he and Rogue were due for another crash and burn. She did not normally interfere in personal matters between the X-Men, but Rogue almost vibrated with her nervousness. With a little less ethics she could know for herself, but crossing that line was one she wasn't prepared to do. She could monitor the situation, but that would be all. Gambit was making a play and a dangerous one.

In high spirits Bobby near skipped down the steps and made his way through the house. The last few days hadn't been that great, but what entertainment factor was there in brooding all the time? He'd leave that apparently savory activity to those better suited for it like Wolverine or Gambit. One of which had yet to return, and the other, well Bobby wouldn't be crying if he came up missing too. It was about time for another annual trip to New Orleans wasn't it?

Iceman passed what had served as a rec room in his younger years, and was now a more adult-like den. The appearance of a zombified Rogue in the corner of his eye gave him a cause for an about face. She sat on couch in blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, hair up in a pony-tail and completely zoned out. Rogue didn't even notice his entrance into the room.

Bobby plopped himself heavily into a plush armchair bouncing a little for good measure.

"Hiya Rogue, watcha doin'?" Bobby called out inquisitively.

"Bobby, give a girl a little warning why doncha," Rogue said, sparkling eyes betraying her startlement, her body otherwise not giving as much of a twitch in response to his arrival.

"So…"

"So?"

"So, what are you doing," Bobby repeated slowly.

Rogue gave a look that she reserved for those ever so special people whose brains were permanently off-line. She held up the remote and waved it in the general direction of the television set.

"You're not watching TV," Bobby said with a slight guffaw.

"I think I know what I'm doing," Rogue returned her accent giving her words a soft cadence.

"Really, so you enjoy the surgery channel?" Bobby asked.

"Uh...no," the skunk-striped mutant said giving the television a slightly grossed out look as _something_ was removed from a chest cavity. "I guess I was just thinking."

"About?" the iciest X-Men prompted when Rogue hesitated.

"Nothing."

"Alright, well while you're thinking about nothing, do you want to go out and grab a bite to eat for lunch?" Bobby asked with a little boy pout that any guy over twenty has mastered.

"I would Bobby, really. But I'm actually late, there's somewhere I gotta be," Rogue rambled as she pushed herself out of her comfortable position on the couch and edged out the door.

Bobby could still clearly sense her anxiety. Bluffing with mutant megalomaniacs was no sweat to her, but Rogue wasn't near as good when it came to skirting the truth around her friends. Of course she could always take lessons from her boyfriend.

"I hate to sound all Xavier on you Rogue, but you can talk to me. If you need to," Bobby said earnestly.

"Thanks Bobby, I appreciate it," Rogue said practically diving down the hall.

Flying low over Breakstone Lake it didn't take much to spot Gambit's leanly muscled form laid out on the dock. Worn olive pants rolled up he was contentedly swishing his lower legs in the water, probably scaring the crap out of all the fish, Rogue thought.

Hoping he wasn't planning a Helen Keller moment for her Rogue touched down nervously on the side of the lake opposite the mansion. As hiding places went it wasn't ideal, but it had privacy from the mansion's cameras and no one would question their presence.

Gambit twisted his side to shoot Rogue a ready smile and she immediately felt her palms warm up, her gloves already removed in flight. At least one barrier she'd been able to take care of by herself.

"So," replied Rogue shakily watching Gambit carefully as he climbed to his feet, "This is it."

"Y' sure y' ready for dis Rogue?" he forced himself to ask. Now would be the perfect time for her to either run back to the mansion, or prove her bit of her courage that he had vaunted to Jean.

"Don't ask me that Remy, ya might not want ta here the answer," Rogue joked suddenly very nervous as she took a seat on the sun-warmed boards. "When do ya want to start?" she asked almost fearing the answer.

"Rogue," said Remy reading her distress, "We both know dis ain't gonna be a quick fix an' I don' expect y' to suddenly start using y' powers when y' nervous by just havin' de gloves off."

"Well doncha think I have reason ta be nervous," she railed back. "So we're not working on my powers today?" she clarified.

"We are, jus' not yet," he said claiming a seat beside her, the fringe of his cut off black shirt catching the chilled wind coming from the lake.

"Well that clears everythang up," the female southerner drawled purposefully drowning her words in an exaggerated version of her native accent. Gambit's smile grew wider,

"Y' gotta know dat it's okay to have de gloves off sometimes. Nothin's gonna run out and attack y'. Jus' get used to what it be like to enjoy de little t'ings again wit'out somebody breathin' down y' neck. De grass, de dirt, de boards," he said running his hands down the rough wood of the docks, yanking his hand back when he got a splinter.

"You were saying?" Rogue mocked.

"Splinter's don' count as attacks," he returned trying to push the splinter out with the blunt tip of his fingernail.

"Lemme see," Rogue said when he failed to get anywhere.

"It ain't a big deal chere," Remy said as he finally stopped fiddling with it.

"You've been playing with it for the last five minutes, just fork it over," she said rolling her eyes under her skunk striped mane.

A touch theatrically Gambit held out his palm for her inspection. It wasn't all the way under the skin, but his palm was reddened slightly from his toying with the tip of the splinter.

"I swear Cajun I can't take ya anywhere without ya getting hurt," Rogue said eyeing the still healing injury on his arm.

"What ever are y' gonna do wit' me?" Gambit joked reclaiming his palm.

"I can think of a few closets I wouldn't mind sticking ya into," Rogue said.

Remy dropped his jaw, "Y' wouldn'?"

"Ya give?" she asked arching an eyebrow.

"F' now," he replied scarlet and onyx eyes flashing mischievously setting his back against one of the wooden posts opposite Rogue, dropping his legs back into the cool summer water, looking more boyish than he had a right too given the amount of stubble on his face.

He glanced back at Rogue and offered her a challenging smile. Mouth down-turned she yanked off her own tennis shoes and socks, pushed up her jeans and immersed her legs. She frowned a bit harder when she noticed she hadn't rolled her pant legs up quite far enough and the green lake water seeped up the seams of her pants.

Gambit lay back down on the dock, and she again repeated his gesture so their heads were side by side.

"And this helps how?" Rogue asked under her breath. Gambit with his close proximity had no trouble picking up the whisper.

"Would y' have don' dis before?" he asked her curiously.

"What lay out on the dock? Sure I've done it," she replied in a bored tone letting her eyes travel lazily across the sky.

"But did y' do it cuz y' were in a fit an' y' wanted to shock everybody running 'round in short-shorts or did y' do it cuz it was relaxing and because it felt natural to do it?"

The waves lapping against the dock held up Rogue's side of the conversation as she contemplated her answer, "Both I guess, I think I have the right ta do it, but yah, partly because I felt trapped," she admitted with rare self-introspection.

She didn't like to analyze herself, actions or opinions, because she always wondered…worried that if she looked too far into them she would find that she had nothing to do with them. That Rogue hadn't made that decision, that she had been influenced by someone she had absorbed over the years.

Over time she had learned to box the voices away so she could stay sane, but if she found out that it hadn't worked, that the voices influences had crept into her thoughts without her knowledge, that might be something from which she could never recover. Indeed it was her best mental effort, and if she had failed, where would she go next?

"Rogue?" Gambit asked hesitatingly, rolling over on his side to face her, auburn bangs trailing over his forehead, "Not t' kick a gift horse in de mouth or anyt'ing…but y' bein' unusually cooperative."

"Don't worry, I plan ta have a full blown out freaking session later."

"Oh, dat's…nice?"

"We all gotta grow up sometimes right?" she asked shakily.

"Rogue if y'…"

"No, don't offer me an out, I'm afraid I might take it. I want this to happen. And I want us to be able to happen," she said honestly.

"As long as we're both doin' dis for de right reasons. Dis ain't bout us, least ways not right off."

"I know. But I want ta be able ta trust ya. And I want ya ta be able ta trust me."

"Even if…" Gambit began, expressing his own doubt in their mutual ability to trust.

"What ya said was true, I usually expect ya ta come forward first. I'm trying this time Remy, God I'm trying."

Rogue's words echoed in her own mind and she sat up abruptly. She was trying, but it wasn't enough by a mile. If they continued at a pace like this she'd never make any progress. Being treated with kid gloves had never gotten her anywhere.

"I appreciate the slow and steady approach Gambit," Rogue said. "But do you have any idea how much it took to get me here? I'm not running away this time, not with my words or anything else. We have to do this, now," she finished breathlessly.

"Chere?" he questioned startled. Rogue wasn't known for her patience, but he'd been sure she'd drag her feet. Instead, she brought forth all the strength and vigor she usually reserved for the battlefield.

"It's been too many years with my powers out of control. I want ta do this. But so help me LeBeau, if ya burn me on this," she said face flushed, her threat hanging in the air.

"I won' let y' down, I swear," Gambit said his voice carefully modulated, hoping he'd be able to keep his promise.

Gambit and Rogue carefully rearranged themselves on the planks of the dock, sitting cross-legged from each other. Rogue examined the man she was entrusting with her powers, and in a few minutes, her mind. He sat passively as if afraid to frighten her off.

Rogue zeroed in on his left arm and her own right hand reached out jerkily, almost of its own volition. Rogue looked up alarmed but whatever thoughts traveled through Remy's mind remained secret, his face a blank mask. He had one of the best poker faces this side of Texas, he could be screaming in terror in his mind and she'd never know.

She knew she should be focusing on her power, deciding what she really wanted to receive from the absorption...but she couldn't. The moment simply overwhelmed her senses. The birds, the wind, the waves, they'd all ceased to exist. Her hand and a target, that was it. And then, contact.

Rogue's fingers twitched as she felt her power connect, the faint warmth of flesh on her fingertips. She could almost see her mind hook Gambit's to hers. She tried to imitate Gambit's stillness and pulled her hand away as calmly as she could. All of the sudden the world snapped back into place. Gambit was listing slightly, leaning forward heavily braced on one arm. His gaze was muddled and his breath shuddering in and out. He slowly slipped unconscious and collapsed his chin smacking the boards.

Foreign memories bubbled up quickly and Rogue lost herself to them.

_A woman in braids, impossibly tall as she laughed and scolded in the same breath._

_The scent of a spice unknown to her._

_A cobblestone street and a woman with bright purple eyes smiling seductively. _

_A bottle of some strange liquid falling and breaking._

_Pain bolting through her skull…_

"_Rogue Report_," a stern voice cut through the memories. Cyclops. Her communicator. Her's. Rogue's.

Rogue came back to herself with a bang as if she'd slammed back into her body. She had no idea how long she'd been in her fugue, but long enough for Gambit to recover, his pale and worried expression the first thing she saw.

"Chere, y' might not wanna answer dat," Gambit advised a light-headed feeling coursing through his blood as he tried to pull his thoughts back together. It wasn't the first time someone had played hackey-sack with his mind, but it was the first that he'd volunteered for it.

"Why not? I t'ink I can handle de phone," Rogue said, the realization of her mangled accent slow in coming. Just one of the 'gifts' from their short contact. A tingling in her palms drew her attention, but the intense glow she associated with Remy's powers simply wasn't there. A random pink spark seemed to leap off her hands every few seconds and evaporate without a sound.

"_Rogue, are you there?"_ an aggravated voice called out again.

Gambit nabbed the offending device, knowing any further delay would send the understandably paranoid X-Men into a tizzy. The quicker he could get rid of Scott, the quicker he could get back to Rogue, and whatever it was she'd unearthed from his mind.

"Gambit here," he replied a trifle unsteadily keeping an eye on the sparkler action that Rogue had acquired.

"_Gambit? Why do you have Rogue's comm._?"

"She let me borrow it," Gambit improvised, "the battery on mine be dead again."

"_It's solar powered_."

"Okay, maybe I lost it. Look Cyke I gotta go," Gambit said turning off the device abruptly. It'd piss the guy off but it would keep him from running up to interfere.

"Gambit?"

"Rogue?"

"Are y' alright?" she asked, internally begging her mind to stop its tilt-a-whirl.

"Thought dats what I should be askin' y'," Remy said witnessing the eerie combination of his self and Rogue reflected in eyes that could no longer be categorized as green.

"I be, I'm good," she said eyes blinking rapidly. The after-affects of her absorption certainly weren't unfamiliar to her, even if every one of them were tailored to the individual she'd absorbed. What she'd gotten from Remy was strange. There was no great revelation, just bits and pieces of memories that she hadn't had time to sort out. At least in this case she'd neither gone on a rampage nor blown up everything in sight.

"I don' know what this is," Rogue said relaxing as her natural accent regained its hold and her mind cleared, "but I think it's a good start."

"We practice more, we figure it out," Gambit said tiredly, his back leaning against a dock post.

"Ya want ta do this again?" Rogue asked incredulously. Despite what he'd said, she had doubts about him sticking it out after getting a taste of her powers.

"Name de time and de place chere," he said. "I made y' a promise, I won' back down on it."

A/N: Who said writing more than one fic simultaneously was a good idea, and where do I go to injure them?

My thanks to everybody:

BJ2, BlkDiamond, calliopeia, coldqueen, Golden Elanor, Kira, ishandahalf, IvyZoe, Jen, MJK, Pincher, Siarra, Streetwise Girl, Sweety8587, and Tammy.


	5. Horsin' Around

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.**

"Made it," a friendly Rogue called out as she breezed into the stables.

Storm looked over the withers of the dapple mount that she was currying, "No need to hurry, I just got here myself," she said with a smile.

"I swear Scott's breaking things all over the mansion just so he can make me and Remy fix 'em."

"I doubt he has really gone quite that far yet. It is a large house, things break."

Rogue snorted in response as she scanned the occupied stalls, sporting demin all the way down until her jeans snaked over her well worn brown cowboy boots.

"Where's Snipe?" Rogue asked referring to her favorite mount, a trick-playing sorrel that always kept the ride interesting.

"I believe he is out grazing with some of the others," Storm said trading her curry comb for a lighter brush, short horse hairs taking flight into the ever-floating dust of the barn.

"He always takes his sweet time coming in," Rogue grumbled. "I guess I'll take out Rebel. That means I'm depending on you for my entertainment."

"I will do my best," said Storm with a gentle laugh. "I would have kept Snipe in for you, but they'd all been put out before I got here." Rebel was not Rogue's favorite horse by far, his gentle personality was distinctly opposite of his name. The gelding had been at the Institute for years and was as placid as they came. The name immediately drew in the cockiest young riders, which given the horse's nature saved many a youth from broken bones.

"It's alright," Rogue said, determined to make the best of it. Unlocking the stall door and gripping Rebel's halter lightly she quickly cross-tied the laid back mount in the center of the aisle.

The two Saturday heroes continued grooming their mutual mounts, taking awhile for their over sixteen hand high horses, an almost necessary height to accommodate their long limbs.

Storm, whom had previously set up the tack for her horse, began fastening the few buckles and belts on the English saddle given to her by Charles years ago when she was more familiar riding camels than horses.

Rogue left briefly to grab the bridle and Western tack that she preferred having grown up with it, lifting the heavy weight onto Snipe's back without even a modicum of effort. Storm took a moment to make a few minor adjustments while and tried to gather her swirling thoughts. Rogue beat her to the punch however.

"We haven't been out riding in ages sugah," Rogue said with equal parts pleasure and suspicion.

"Yes I know. As busy as our lives get, I'm surprised the horses have not gone oft and left us altogether."

"That's what the exercise riders are for," Rogue said smoothing out the saddle blanket and placing the deeply tooled saddle over Rebel's back.

Bridles and bits in place the two women led their mounts out of the barn and stopped briefly to gaze over the paddock.

With her light blue eyes squinted against the bright morning sun Storm commented with a voice full of dread certainty, "Something monumental is going on between yourself and Remy."

"Well that was abrupt," Rogue said trying to laugh it off, "but I don't know what ya talking about."

"He has not broken your confidence Rogue," Storm swore. "But I know Remy. I can tell when he's up to something."

"Well it ain't nothing bad, or illegal," Rogue hastened to assure.

"With your involvement I did not think it would be," said Storm, "but I worried it might be dangerous to both of your welfares," she said, her blue eyes piercing.

"What do you mean by that?" hedged Rogue twisting the reins in her hands.

"Let us get away from the mansion before we have such a discussion," Storm advised.

"Good idea, sometimes it feels like this place is wired," Rogue said, easily swinging into the saddle, Storm following suit.

Their steeds matched trots until they lost sight of the Institute, the steady clip-clop of their hooves the only conversation between the two women. Rebel stumbled slightly over a loose stone and Rogue pulled him back to a walk, wanting to confirm that the slight impact hadn't injured him. Storm, regal astride her mount, slowed as well, and Rogue realized she couldn't put off their conversation forever.

Rogue cleared her voice a few times but didn't manage any farther.

"Rogue?" Ororo called out quietly. "I have been a friend to both you and Gambit for many years. If something is troubling you, I want to help. And if you are doing what I think you are doing, than you will need all the support you can get."

The southern mutant shot a half-panicked glance at Storm.

"It's not…what you think."

"Really? Rogue, neither Gambit nor yourself is known for doing half-way measures, and I do see why jumping full force into something could seem like the best way to go about it…however you do understand the repercussions of such a course of action."

"I ain't saying that we are," Rogue warned, "but if we were, don't you think it's about time?"

"Rogue, I've wished this for you since the day you became an X-Man, my reasons for it may have changed, but I do wish it for you. However, you must realize that the increasing tension between you and Gambit is unmistakable. Others will find out. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"God, Storm," Rogue said hating herself a little for tearing up, "More than anything in the world."

Ororo reached over with her left hand to grasp Rogue's gloved one and gave is a gentle squeeze. "Than best of luck to you Rogue, and…"

"I know, be careful. We are…I am…" Rogue stuttered, surprised that Storm wasn't immediately heading to Cyclops to stop her and Remy's activity. "It has only been a few times," Rogue admitted, glad to have an outside confidant. "Only for a few seconds, and Gambit seems alright afterwards, I mean, he's not passing out a long any more..."

"I'm glad, for you Rogue. Truly."

"What do ya say we give these horses a real workout?" Rogue asked nudging her horse into a canter feeling freer than she had in a long while.

Gambit leaning against the brick siding of the mansion, watched the returning females with a wistful smile. Their faces were bright from being wind-whipped racing on one of the many trails carved through the woods. Horses were not an animal he had gotten to like. Too big to bring into the house for any kind of companionship, and clean-up took hours. And as a smoker, hanging out in a barn never made him particularly comfortable either. Flame retardant wood or not, with all the sawdust and hay littering the floor it still looked like a giant tinderbox. If the barn ever did go up in flame he'd be the first they'd blame.

Remy had never bothered riding at the mansion, having only ridden once before. Somehow the parts of New Orleans he frequented were not all that over-populated with horses. Except for one family from Rhode Island either too dense or too brave to take the advice of a real estate agent knocked down some old buildings to put up a new home complete with a ten stall stable. Unluckily for them it was directly between Assassin and Thief territories.

Belle, his former wife, had also been his childhood sweetheart. She an Assassin and he a Thief they had been betrothed as teenagers to bring a permanent peace between the two Guilds. Even so, their time together was almost always supervised from an unseen individual whether Assassin or Thief. The joint property was too much to pass up and the couple found themselves at the Rhode Island house often.

The two native borne Cajuns quickly consolidated a friendship with the couple's only daughter. She was bright enough to know she was being used, but found her new accented friends too interesting to care.

Their house had a modestly sized barn in the back lot with a small outdoor arena. Belle was a natural, her slim grace lending itself easily to horseback. In some ways Storm was reminiscent of her, though decidedly less homicidal.

A daredevil youth, it did not take Gambit long to find himself astride a horse as well. Nervousness he could hide from the girls, but not the horse. His anxiety was easily translated to the horse which promptly bucked throwing the startled youth over his head.

A pulled tendon from a surprised landing was serious enough that he had to suppress a limp for a few days. He trained through his injury, being evasive to the cause, but it was in vain. The hoof shaped bruise that accompanied it probably hadn't helped his cause either. The house was soon off-limits to him, and a few weeks later the entire house burned to the ground. An electrical fire was the official cause, but a steady stream of rumors about Guild activity was what kept the house from being rebuilt.

The horses as far as he knew had made it out, but horse back riding was still an activity of non-participation from which he wouldn't budge.

Gambit's musings had taken him longer than he thought, surprised when a slightly dusty Rogue appeared at his elbow. "Rogue, nice time?"

"I spose as good as could be expected. I got Rebel."

"So sorry chere," said Gambit with a blank look.

"Don't ya ever pay attention to something besides the security around here?"

"I have t' memorize de names of de horses now?" he questioned, throwing an easy wave to Storm as she walked past toward the mansion to grab a necessary shower.

"Just trying to get ya interested."

"No worries bout dat chere, y' know y' got my full attention."

"Good. I just want to tell ya about the chat I had with Storm."

"I hope it wasn' anyt'ing like de one I had wit' Jean."

"Well she was just as suspicious, but I managed to calm her down a bit. I told her we were working with my powers. She gave us her blessing, said she wouldn't tell Cyclops or anyone else."

"Well dat is good news, but I thought y' didn' want anyone to know?"

"Honestly she wasn't far from guessing herself; I guess you're not as sneaky as ya think Mr. LeBeau."

"I am sneaky, y' de one dat ain't."

"Either way," said Rogue pointedly, "we're still on for next week."

"You bet chere," smirked Gambit.

Rogue smiled thinking on the first time they had set up on the opposite side of Breakstone Lake. She had been terrified for Gambit and herself. Once she'd mustered the courage to touch her hand to his arm, she'd felt a rush of memories and she let go instantly. Gambit had gotten a little woozy, but thankfully nothing too serious had occurred. She hadn't told what memories she'd received, and he hadn't asked, yet. But she was on an emotional high from her talk with Storm and felt she could maybe go another round.

"Do you remember the whole give and take idea we had going…"

"What are you talking about?" Remy asked folding his arms across his chest as wariness enveloped his lanky frame.

"Well, I did my part. I went first, shared."

Gambit looked puzzled for a moment. "You mean de t'ing in de park?"

"Yes the 'thing' in the park!" Rogue shouted, her green eyes alighting in a way no emerald could ever imagine. "Don't pretend like ya don't remember, or act like this is such an imposition to ya. You promised. This was supposed to be a fifty-fifty deal, and I think I have been more than generous with ya. This can't be one-sided. I'm trusting ya Remy, please trust me."

"What do you want to know?" Gambit asked cautiously, willing to give a little. Remy was starting to really realize how big of a task they had set for themselves. But even so, whatever discomfort it was, it was worth it to see Rogue with a positive outlook on her powers. She was less shy, around him at least, and there was an exuberance to her that made her glow. Rogue had been more than great, and by focusing on her powers he had admittedly avoided paying the piper. His lady love looked up tucking away a loose whisp of her ponytail, the guilty flash of her eyes giving him her answer.

"Dis is about Belle?" he asked half with disgust, half with disbelief. It was like she had pulled his image of Belle right from his very thoughts. And maybe, a few days prior, she had. "I thought y' would have enough 'bout her by now."

"That's not fair Cajun. Ya were married to the woman."

"For all of an hour," he muttered scuffing the ground with his boot heel.

"Don't downplay this. Ya knew her for years right? Besides, I told ya about Cody, and he was my first everything. I'm willing to bet that she was yours too. Equal trade."

"Dats how we be doin' dis? Story for story?"

"Why not? Sounds as good as anything else," the Mississippi borne mutant said.

"If we did dat we would still be in contract negotiation," Gambit returned.

"Please don't make me ask again," Rogue said quietly, the momentary jocularity fleeing.

Gambit took a deep breath, there were things Rogue could never know, partly because of Guild laws and partly because she'd never understand them. Not that Rogue was unintelligent by any means, just that she hadn't shared the closeness he had been able to have with Belle. At least before the wedding, Julian, and the disaster he'd strewn over his life.

"We met when we was young—"

"How young?"

"After Jean Luc picked me up," Gambit said knowing Rogue was a little more familiar with that part of his past.

"We was both in training at de same time, but she had a few years head start. Kicked my ass a couple o' times," he said grinning with remembrance.

"I can't imagine ya taking defeat gracefully."

"I didn'," Gambit smirked, mind's eye roving back to simpler times when his future appeared to be all laid out for him already. All he had to do was not fail, and his father, brother, Belle, and the rest of his family would be at his side. If they had stayed together the entire underground of New Orleans would have changed. At their fingertips the joint power of the best, if not the biggest, Guilds in the United States.

Everyone had the idea that thieves were constantly looking over their shoulder, but if they were talented enough they could be careless in ways he could never dream of being now. With the X-Men he spent so much of his time lying down fine lines of morality, constantly making sure he did not take a pace in the wrong direction.

It was a certain kind of freedom being a thief. He and Belle would have had a difficult time unifying the Guilds, but they would have been happy. But Rogue made him happy too, the thought rekindling the fading corners of his smile.

Rogue noticed the dimming and brightening of a gentle smile she did not often see on the Cajun-bred mutant, "You look peaceful Remy," she said, "Why don't ya talk about ya family or her more often?"

"I don' t'ink y'd like t' hear 'bout my ex all day long. An' cuz it makes me sad too chere, knowing I can never go back."

"Do you…do you still love her?"

Gambit ran a hand through his hair before hesitantly meeting Rogue's eyes, "Y' ain't gonna like de answer to this one chere…I do love her, but to me it's like she died. The woman she was died."

"You love her?"

"Oui."

"What if she got her memory back?" asked Rogue.

"It won' ever happen," said Remy with a distant look to his darkened eyes.

"Do you…" started Rogue, unable to finish her sentence. The couple shared a look of joined consternation. So much they had done together and so much they were allowing themselves to finally open up. But three little words stuck in her throat, and hopefully his too. If it did not then it meant he didn't say it for a different reason, and that was something she could not handle.

"What was she like? I mean really like, without all the armor and stuff?"

"She really was like dat. She was tough, adventurous. I remember one time when…"

A/N: I know this chapter is a little rough, but I'm MIA until about the second week of January, and I wanted to at least get this posted for you guys. Happy Holidays.

Major thanks to my reviewers: BJ2, BlkDiamond, calliopeia, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, coldqueen, Golden Elanor, Kira, ishandahalf, IvyZoe, Jen, Kitsu Lebeau, MJK, NuTTy, Pincher, Roguechere, samson28, Siarra, Streetwise Girl, Sweety8587, and Tammy.


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